


The Shrine Of Our Love

by innerglow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ballet, Dancer Sam, Dancing Sam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerglow/pseuds/innerglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam loves to Dance.<br/>Dean loves to watch. </p>
<p>Loosely inspired by <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FH8BYfsot4o">this</a> video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shrine Of Our Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tofu_is_amazing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tofu_is_amazing/gifts), [hellhoundsprey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/gifts).



> This fic has been [posted to tumblr](http://jerk-bitch.com/post/128579416174/shrine-of-our-love) for awhile, but I am officially posting it here--because [hellhoundsprey](http://hellhoundsprey.tumblr.com) ([Ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey)) was so gracious to do a commission for this fic and I wanted them to be together somewhere. (Thank you again!!)
> 
> As always, this is dedicated to: [whoaeasytiger](http://whoaeasytiger.com) on tumblr | [tofu_is_amazing](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tofu_is_amazing) on Ao3.

 

The music starts, haunting and dark, and it echoes loudly into the woods that surround the building they’ve found themselves in.  There’s no one around, it’s just the two of them.  Just Sam and the music.  Just Dean and the sprawling porcelain of his Brother’s skin.  And Dean is helpless but to watch as Sam kneels in the abandoned building, the morning light casting a halo atop of his head.   **  
**

Sam is out of his body, his breaths in tune with the rise and fall of the lyrics that spill all around them.  His silhouette flits around and twirls like a romantic tornado.  His feet drag against the floor and it sounds like a heartbeat.  It beats fast and then slow, fast again, and then barely alive.  Sam’s legs arch into the air and sing like the pulled strings on beautifully bound harp.  And his chest rises and falls, rises and falls, rises and falls.  His lungs are an accordion of hallelujahs and they hammer against the walls like Sunday church bells.

Dean’s tongue howls like a starved dog in the back of his throat, as he watches Sam come spinning to a stop in the center of the room.  Sam stares into the back of Dean’s skull and walks, one-two-three achingly slow paces towards Dean.  And he mouths the lyrics, ‘ _amen, amen, amen._ ’  Sam stops just inches from Dean and then turns to arch his body off the ground.  And Dean is left breathless, is left empty and wanting, is left on the tip of his toes, aching to touch–to carve his initials into every inch of Sam’s skin.

Leaping into the air, Sam’s long limbs stretch and reach for the blue above them.  As though, if he jumps high enough, he can pin himself to the sky and become the goddamned sun himself.  But then he falls back to the ground and the light from the window curls away from his back.  He looks like a fallen angel, writhing face first on the floor and then he pushes himself up slowly, rolling smoothly onto his back.

The skin of Sam’s chest rolls over the temple of his ribcage.  And Dean imagines Sam’s ivory ribs as piano keys, wishing nothing more than to let his fingertips rest on them.  Wanting nothing more than to play the ballad of his devotion on every aching key.  Needing nothing more than to press his lips against Sam’s throat as he moans out the chorus.

Sam’s arms reach over his head, his legs bending to arch his hips off the floor, before turning himself up and back into a standing position.  Sam’s hair falls into his eyes, his hips swaying like waves in the sea, as he lifts his arms and uses them to twirl his body around.  He spins from one corner of the room, to the other and then leaps and arches his body back into the center of the floor.  

Dean stares like astronomers do when they trace the stars, his body craving nothing more than to follow the north star of Sam’s heart.  He would give his last breath, just to name the constellation that fixes itself at the point of Sam’s lips.  There’s a galaxy beyond that constellation and Dean would crawl across continents to relish in that pink-lipped forever.  

Sam palms his chest, as if on cue, and then grabs the sides of his face, his fingers clawing their way back through his hair.  His eyes are closed, but body is completely open.   

Dean’s not the religious type, but he feels a hurricane of ‘hallelujahs’ swimming in his chest.  And when Sam collapses to the floor, his back arching, his toes curled and his breath emptying like a confession into the air around them, Dean knows he’s a believer of only one Faith.   

And that’s Sam’s love.

The song comes slowly to an end, Sam flying through the air and spinning as fast as Dean’s heart beats.  

‘ _Good god_ , let me give you my life.’

Sam falls to his knees at the foot of Dean’s feet, his chest heaving and his body trembling with exhaustion.  

And the only word that slips through Dean’s mouth is–

“ _Amen._ ”


End file.
